irresponsible storytelling and other things

chaptered fics:

Let Go (Never Let Me Go) [started] | tumblr link

In which Rey swipes right on Ben, 35. Probably too much of an asshole for you, but my therapist is trying to convince me that assholes deserve love too, so here’s me on Tinder, and it does not proceed as she expects.

In which the stripper hired for Rose’s bachelorette party is an allusion to her profession.
And then it gets serious.

He knows her scent better than he knows anything else in the world.

And the scent coming off her pillow is not her scent.

Westworld isn’t your typical amusement park. Intended for rich vacationers, the futuristic park allows its visitors to live out their most primal fantasies with the robotic “hosts,” no matter how illicit the fantasy.

The maze isn’t for me my ass, he thinks. He looks up, smiling beneath his bandana and his eyes are met with a horrified looking couple. The man is standing in front of the woman, as though worried that Ben’ll attack them next.
He rolls his eyes as he stands up again, cleaning the simulation blood from his knife by rubbing it against his pant leg.
“Oh, don’t look at me like that,” he snarls at them. “This is my fucking vacation.”

Rey feels the beginning of her Heat a week before Super Tuesday and wants to die.

“The lord of the underworld is a liar,” the queen says when she catches Rey following her gaze. Her voice is hard, and her gaze is angry. “He stole my son from me.”

oneshots:

“I didn’t get to have a big wedding,” his mother had told him when they’d finally spoken about it. “I was pregnant and it was a lot and your dad and I just got married. It’s my time. I’m having a big wedding.” She sounded nervous, almost defensive, as though a woman who is nearly sixty doesn’t have a right to want a big wedding. She wasn’t no young blushing bride. She has a thirty-year-old son for god’s sake.
But his mom was going to have a big wedding.
And Ben had taken a deep breath before saying what he’s sure Leia was even more nervous about hearing.
“I’m not sure I’m coming.”

he needs her; she needs him too.

they go for a hike

they’re practically running through the bay to where the pod she’d arrived in is sitting. it looks so much smaller now than it had when she’d arrived in it, the words PROPERTY OF HAN SOLO PLEASE RETURN written in his father’s messy handwriting along the side of the pod. well, dad i guess i am. his throat closes. he’s got a bad feeling about this.

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